


First Night

by Salty_Caramel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Complete, M/M, Marriage Politics, Misunderstandings, Multi, Please heed chapter warnings, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Caramel/pseuds/Salty_Caramel
Summary: An ancient law, made in a fit of jealousy by a tyrannous Keiser centuries ago, decrees as follows: in the case of a wedding taking place in his jurisdiction, the Ruler of the Land may take the newlywed to his own bed on the first night of their marriage, with no repercussions, if he so pleases.As no Keiser or Keiserina since has been in mind to commit such an abomination, the commandment was, over the years, forgotten in its obscurity……that is, until an envoy of the Keiser arrives just in time for the celebrations of the wedding of Yuuri Katsuki, proclaiming the Keiser wishes to make use of his right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Salty checking in with another Royalty AU, as promised. (˶◕ ♡ ◕˶✿)  
> This is a two part fic, I'm editing and working out the ending as you're reading this! I just really wanted to post a cliffhanger, as I haven't had the chance in quite a while.
> 
> As always, thank you for stopping by! I hope you have a good time reading this! ♡ All comments and kudos are much appreciated~

Yuuri had really thought the ceremony itself was going to be the worst part.

Perhaps a sudden rain shower would leave him drenched and unpresentable before he even arrived at the shrine. Maybe he would trip on the steps in front of the entire family of his wife-to-be; or, he would step on and rip her pristine skirts, or something equally embarrassing, like forgetting his cues or misreading his vows.

In the end, none of the above occurred, with the exception of the moment of tense silence just before he gave his vows. It was then, in that moment, the heaviness of his circumstances dawned on him and he realised that this was it. This was him, giving himself away to the role of a husband for the _rest of his life_. But he had done it; he had stood tall by his fiancé, in front of the priestess, and offered his vows with a clear resolution despite his reeling mind.

He had made it through, all well and alive and _wed_ , acquiring an important tie to a powerful landowner along the way, which would secure the future of his parents’ business. The inn would be left for his sister to run once they decided to retire—comfortably, now, with their boosted economy, raised social standing and near erased debt.

He had made it through, smile strained, spine tense and wrist tied to the delicate hand of his timid spouse. Now, all that were left were the festivities; all he had to do was sit down with his wife, attempt to stomach some of the feast while receiving congratulations from his guests, try not to down too many cups of wine, or think too much of the marital duties that awaited him once evening fell. If he had managed the ceremony, under the harsh scrutiny of his in-laws and some rather important townsfolks, the rest should be child’s play.

He should have known nothing could ever go so smoothly—not for him, anyway.

It happens like this: just as they all leave the gates of the shrine to make for the halls of his father-in-law, where the celebrations will take place, a commotion from down the road steals their attention. Dozens of people have stopped whatever business they were going about, gossiping excitedly amongst each other while eagerly stretching their necks to look at something that is yet out of sight for their little group.

“Now, what is all this fuzz about,” Yuuri hears his father wonder as they all curiously look to the mass of townsfolks out in the streets. They don’t have to wonder for long what has them all arrested from their chores, for not a moment later an envoy on horseback and his escorts comes galloping around the corner of the market and towards the gathering of weddinggoers.

A finely dressed herald bellows loudly, “Make way for the Royal Guard!” and the crowd easily parts for them. Yuuri hardly believes his own ears until he (squinting, for the lack of his spectacles) spots the familiar shades of the Blue Rose banner dancing behind the approaching envoy and his accompanying guards.

In a way, he finds himself thinking that, surely, they are simply passing by on their way to their true objective, and that the appearance of a wedding party in their way is simply an inconvenient coincidence. Yes, this conclusion is the most logical one, Yuuri thinks, and he stands, waiting, expecting the party to continue their hard ride through the town.

Except, the envoy slows and then turns the horses towards the gathering of the wedded couple and their closest family, coming to a halt not ten feet away from the party.

Only the neighing of the horses and clacks of their hooves drown out the audible hitch in Yuuri’s breath; the entire wedding party has fallen silent.

The herald clears his throat. “We are his Majesty’s Guard sent on a hasty errand from the Keiser himself,” he announces grandly from atop his white steed, chest puffed out, showcasing the elegant insignia of the Blue Rose. “Is this the ceremony commencing the wedding of a mister Katsuki, Yuuri?”

Before his name is even spoken, Yuuri is sweating up a storm in his wedding garb, mouth dry as dirt and unable to gather enough wits about himself to speak at all.

Unsurprisingly, it is his father-in-law who takes the first word. His massive ownership of land has made him a local Lord, and while his title is not inherited or a gift from the Royal House, he feels on par to speak with an envoy of the Keiser—and tell them exactly what he thinks of their presence.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Lord demands. “Barging in and causing such ruckus on the day of my only daughter’s wedding! His High Majesty, I should think, will have to have some _very_ good reasons to endanger the good relations which the Crown holds with our rich, resourceful region!”

The envoy, who cannot be much older than Yuuri himself at three-and-twenty, seems undeterred by the Lord’s threatening outburst, but his herald's visage betrays an urgency as he speaks again. “Is this or is this _not_ the wedding-party of mister Katsuki?”

“Y-Yes,” Yuuri finally manages to stumble forth. “I am Yuuri Katsuki.”

The herald looks visibly relieved, and the even the escorting guards seems to brighten. “Brilliant. Then, may I introduce sir Georgi of the House of the Violet Poppy, Knight of the Realm and messenger of the Keiser.”

The envoy, the knight called sir Georgi, pulls out a roll of parchment from the breast of his uniform with a certain flourish, and clears his throat loudly as he unrolls it. “By the decree of his High Majesty, the Eleventh Keiser, citing the Act of the First Night, set into place by the Fourth Keiser; it is hereby in my right to take the spouse, as commanded by the Keiser, from this blessed marriage to spend the first night of matrimonial service in the bed of his High Majesty.”

The shocked gasps from those close enough to hear reach his ears before Yuuri can fully comprehend what is being said. What is being demanded—what the _Keiser_ demands of them.

His wife sways on her feet next to him. His father-in-law’s face has gone from red to pale so quickly that Yuuri briefly wonders if they should call for medical attention. His own parents are watching wide-eyed while exchanging concerned whisperers with Yuuri’s dear friends, the Nishigoris.

“Let me see the paper!” his father-in-law demands, and while he seems reluctant to hand the document over to the enraged Lord, sir Georgi concedes to let him verify the validity of it. From the crestfallen look that overcomes him, Yuuri has to guess that yes, the paper is indeed not some sort of jest on his expenses and the envoy is indeed here on the Keiser’s behalf.

Upheaved murmurs quickly spread through the crowd, distrustful and wary of what has been said. Could the Keiser really do such a thing? Demand, _by law_ , to take a bride from her husband on the night of their wedding?

Sir Georgi clears his throat again as he rolls the parchment away into his coat, looking pointedly at the red silk tie that bind Yuuri and his wife together, as per tradition, preventing their parting. “We shall give you our patience for long enough to…make yourself available. His High Majesty expects our return to the Palace by sundown, so I suggest you act urgently.”

Yuuri stands there stunned for a moment longer before gingerly working on freeing the knot of their marriage string with his one free hand, avoiding the look of betrayal that his new wife surely wears. He fails utterly in his endeavour, and is beyond relieved as Yuuko Nishigori appears before him to help with her two able hands.

Takeshi Nishigori, Yuuko’s Husband, steps up beside him, asking him beneath the murmurs of the crowd, “Why would the Keiser invoke such a law on you? I have studied our Justice, and it certainly exists, but no ruler has used it since the reign of the Fourth.”

Yuuri swallows thickly. “I think… I might perhaps have offended him, in some way.”

“I’ve never heard of him to be a spiteful man! Not in this manner, at least,” Yuuko reasons while she pulls gently on the loops of the string. “Surely, there is a mistake.”

Her words are probably meant to calm the nerves of his wife, who, after all, is but a young woman about to be sent away from her husband on what was to be their very first night together. To a stranger—the Keiser, none the less!

Such an event is a scandalous occurrence, not just for its rarity (meaning, it was practically unheard of), but for the consequences. A resulting child would be under Yuuri’s doubted claim for their entire life, and, while his family certainly wouldn’t gain anything on it, other than dumb pride on the gamble of losing everything, Yuuri’s parents could—in theory—void the marriage due to failure of consummation.

“Besides, at what occasion should you have offended the Keiser, Yuuri?” Yuuko stresses with a half-smile, surely not expecting such an event to have taken place.

But oh, it _had_.

“The ball of his coronation, not six months ago,” Yuuri realises, paling. “He caught me staring—not that everyone wasn’t, it was the day of his coronation after all—but the timing couldn’t have been worse…He then asked me if we had been introduced, and I was so embarrassed I turned my back to him and wandered off. He must have taken offence, and remembered it up until now.”

“Oh, Yuuri…” Yuuko sighs in distress. She finally succeeds in pulling their hands free from the silk, gently rolling it together for safekeeping.

Once the obstruction is removed, looking at his wife is unavoidable. Her lips are trembling and her face is pale beneath her applied blush. She must be terrified. He wishes he could tell her something comforting, but nothing seems appropriate. At least she will have to know that he is the one to blame and that it is no fault of hers. He should tell her, at the very least, that he will stand by his duties as a husband once she returns, and that he has no intention of annulling the marriage and tarnishing her reputation, no matter the result.

The words are stuck in his throat, and he can only give her what he hopes is a reassuring nod before turning to the envoy.

“We are ready,” Yuuri tells him. “But may I ask that my wife is returned safely to her father’s home once His Majesty…once she is able to do so. I beg an escort, for her to make the return safely. Please.”

Any better man would never make such a request of the Keiser’s envoy with his head bowed so shamefully, but Yuuri is not a good man—not good enough or brave enough to stand up for his wife, who deserves at least that much, no matter how loveless the marriage they have entered in might be. He can only do this much, throw down his pride and esteem in front of his family and hers and hope to secure their amiable relationship.

But sir Georgi only looks on with a raised eyebrow, making Yuuri’s chest tighten. Will he be refused? Does the Keiser have other plans for his wife to punish him further for his insolence? His stomach twists as he thinks it.

Then the envoy speaks. “I’m afraid I do not see a reason to provide your wife an escort when her father seems ready to assure her return home once we depart. I’m however certain we can have something arranged for your sake, mister Katsuki, once your… business with his High Majesty concludes.”

Yuuri stares dumbly. “I do not get your meaning…”

“I believe I spoke plainly, but I shall repeat myself,” sir Georgi says, slowly. “His Majesty has requested to share the first night not with mister Katsuki’s new wife, but with mister Katsuki himself.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salty checking in with the second part of this fic! (˶◕ ♡ ◕˶✿)
> 
> Thank you all for your amazing response! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying the concept as much as I am. Now the second and final part just kept growing as I wrote it, so I have made some changes... This fic now has three parts, and the third part will probably be around the same length as this one. I should be able to complete it sometimes over the weekend. While I had not originally thought to include an explicit sex scene in this fic, that is now a possibility...but no promises though!
> 
> PLEASE READ THE CHAPTER WARNINGS.  
> *non-sexual touching with dubiously/no given consent  
> *fantasies of anxious and sexual nature featuring dubious/no given consent  
> *humiliation (both by strangers and self-inflicted)  
> IF ANY OF THESE WARNINGS BOTHER YOU IN ANY WAY YOU SHOULD TAKE RESPONSIBILITY AND NOT READ THIS FIC FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY.
> 
> Without further ado, happy reading! ♡♡♡

_This can’t be happening._

The mantra has echoed in Yuuri’s head ever since he mounted the horse that would take him to the Palace, head bowed to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze, afraid of what he might find there. (Pity. Sympathy. Anger, disappointment. Nothing he wanted to see.) They ride for well over the hour before the spires of the Capitol comes into view in the distance, gleaming in the light of the sun where it hangs low in the sky, beams reflecting like silver sparks dancing across the vast West Sea.

Yuuri revels in none of it, for every step his horse takes through the gilded city is a step closer to the Keiser—and whatever he has planned for him.

They pass many citizens on their ride to the Summer Palace, hardly interested in yet another set of guards in a citadel full of them. Yuuri wonders briefly if anyone who does look at him could know of his predicament, if they can tell who he is and what has befallen him just from a glance at his face. He knows, logically, they surely cannot, but the thought yet torments him as they ride on.

This whole affair isn’t just humiliating. This changes everything.

Instead of it being in _his_ family’s power to annul the marriage, this decision now rests in the hands of his father-in-law. If the Lord sees it fit, he will cut Yuuri loose for infidelity and a failed consummation, and his family’s business will go down with him. He will never be able to marry again with the reputation of a failed marriage already on his shoulders. Additionally, after the Keiser has…had his way with him tonight, he could assuredly crush the reputation of Yuuri’s entire family for generations to come, if he were to make this affair public knowledge.

Which it very well soon might be, considering the amount of people who had been present to hear the envoy’s announcement. The Lord, if he were so lucky, might have deemed it necessary to attempt to keep them quiet, in some way ( _Impossible_ , Yuuri thinks, _there were too many_.) But if he had deemed otherwise…

Yuuri shudders with the weight of this failure on his shoulders. His in-laws’ gain from this marriage had really only been one thing: to entwine noble blood into their family.

The name Katsuki had been highly regarded for generations. While theirs was, really, only a branch family of the old Noble House Okukawa, Yuuri was still regarded as low-ranking nobility, in spite of his family’s economic struggles. But even so, the Katsukis were a highly respected family, especially in their region, and a representative of their household was traditionally invited to every Royal gathering that had taken place since the rule of the Third Keiserina.

If he so wished, the Keiser could sever these ties to the Royal House, rendering Yuuri’s family name of no more import than a commoner’s. If this occurred, his father-in-law would have no incentive at all to have his daughter married to someone of such a tarnished reputation. There would be nothing to gain, and he would take his land and money and look for better prospects elsewhere.

He wonders, miserably, what will bring the Keiser more pleasure: the ruining of his family’s life and name, or… _defiling_ his chastity.

Once they arrive at the Palace Gates, no less grand than the last time he had seen them with their gilded décor and marvellous carvings, Yuuri is hardly given the time to right himself after unmounting his horse before two bony, manicured hands do it for him, and he is met with a sharp, calculating face. It belongs to an older lady, made younger by her expertly painted face, her real age betrayed only by the wrinkles of her hands and life-hardened eyes. She wears a long, elegant robe with golden birds stitched into the fabric, fit for a duchess or someone of similar rank.

He finds himself straightening under her scrutinising green eyes, his years of training and etiquette lessons from living with Lady Okukawa quickly reasserting themselves.

“Good posture. And a pretty face,” the lady murmurs in approval, snapping her fingers and moving them back and forth in front of his eyes, prompting them to follow. “But blind as an old bat. Do you not carry spectacles, boy?”

“I-I wasn’t wearing them when I left, my lady,” Yuuri stutters, the question catching him off guard.

The lady hums, considering. “I am Madam Lilia. You shall address me as such.”

“Y-Yes, Madam.”

Madam Lilia seems pleased, and turns to Sir Georgi who has just dismounted his steed. Yuuri notices even the knight seems to stand straighter under the severe gaze of the madam.

“He will do,” she says. “But he will not see his High Majesty resembling a windswept stable hand.”

The envoy stiffens. “B-But Madam! It is but an hour until evening falls, and the Keiser _specifically_ asked us to bring mister Katsuki before—”

“Then tell him he shall have to wait,” the madam quiets his protests. “It should suit our liege very well, I should think, to wallow in his own impatience for a bit for interrupting all our schedules with his whims and wishes. It is, after all, mister Katsuki’s wedding night. I should think he would rather not be reminded of a horse every time he catches a whiff of himself.”

With this, she turns to a group of men and women, some even young boys and girls, who’ve gathered behind her—servants, judging by their uniforms, waiting on the word of their madam.

“Take the boy to the baths, and have him scrubbed _properly_. Trim his nails and push his hair back. I want his clothes aired and the horsehair removed—scent them if you must, but nothing overwhelming. Have him in the chambers within the hour. Now, get to it!”

With this said he is ushered inside by the stern madam and her little horde of helping hands, unsure whether or not he should be grateful that his fate has been postponed for the time being.

They quickly walk several stairs and hallways, leaving no time to admire any décor or artwork, which adorns the palace, before he is pushed inside a warm, steam-filled room and divested of his wedding garb, which is taken away. He squirms a little as the many hands strip him of his stockings and even his smallclothes, but voices no protests as they guide his bared form further into the room.

While Yuuri is no stranger to bathing in public, as is custom in the various bathing houses in his region, being the only fully naked person in a bathing-room full of people is a daunting experience. He is drenched and sprayed, and put in a warm pool to soak. There he is scrubbed clean from the grime of his journey, one pair of hands washing his back while another kneads his scalp with refreshing, floral oils. His arms and legs are given the same attention, all the way down to the spaces between his fingers and toes. He has to bite his tongue not to resist when the cloths travel up his inner thighs, but cannot supress a flinch when they make to clean his private parts _very_ thoroughly.

His eyes sting and his cheeks burn with the humiliation, even long after he is dried and put in fresh underwear, seated on a plush chair in another chamber while the servants continue refreshing him like he was some…some _concubine_ , made ready for the honour to serve his Keiser for the night.

With every passing minute, it’s all becoming more real, yet so much removed from his reality. It’s like a divinity has taken him from his life as an inn owner’s son and put him in place of a royal servant, a scenario that hadn’t occurred to him in his wildest dreams. Yet here he is: pampered and aired, nails trimmed and hair brushed, and every inch of his skin moisturised with balms and creams. He has been undressed and bathed under the scrutiny of several strangers and, finally, redressed in his own wedding garb, which now smells faintly of newly bloomed roses.

Soon, once the servants deem themselves finished, he is escorted out of the little chamber and to a different room. Two guards, wearing the Blue Rose on their chests, open the doors for Yuuri and his escorts who gently usher him inside.

It is a large bedroom, possibly larger than the dining room in his family’s inn—or perhaps that’s simply an illusion of the ceiling, which easily rises Yuuri’s own height twice over. Every wall features extravagant tapestries, showing both familiar and exotic art forms from far away countries. The doors to the balcony are splayed open, welcoming a soft breeze and granting a spectacular view of the setting sun as it sinks in the West Sea. The rest of the room is filled with all kinds of luxuries he could possibly think of, and then some—vases and bookshelves, and mirrors and hand painted dressing screens. Against the wall stands a massive bed, fit for a king.

He is, without a doubt, standing in the Keiser’s bedchambers.

While the servants putter around doing last-minute preparations, making sure his hair lies where they’ve combed it, that not a single fold of his garb lies incorrectly, the door opens again behind them. Yuuri’s heart jumps in his chest, but it is only madam Lilia.

With a stern gesture, she dismisses her little helpers and sends them out of the room. They all bow and leave quietly; soon, there is only the two of them, Yuuri standing rigidly as Lilia appraises him once more, cleaned and dolled up as per her instructions, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun.

“Beautiful.”

The approval does nothing to ease the tension in his spine, but he has a feeling that nothing short of the Keiser never showing up will, at this point.

She steps closer to him and reaches into the folds of her robes. From them she pulls out an unmarked jar, which she presses into his clammy hands.

“What is…” he begins, but quickly shuts his mouth when he realises exactly what she has given him and what it is for. His cheeks burn harder than they have all day, the tips of his ears smouldering with heat.

“I trust you have an idea what to do with this,” the madam says, unhelpfully. Then, she sighs, a tired look overcoming her face. “I do not pretend to know how the Keiser thinks or his reason for having you brought, if there is any. You can ask anyone in the palace, but they will all tell you the same. What I do know is that his highly unpredictable behaviour should not be underestimated. You will have to decide for yourself how ready you will be when you take the brunt of it.”

He swallows around the stone that has settled in his throat, finding that it grows even heavier once it reaches his belly. He mutters a soft ‘thank you’, grateful for the warning, yet feeling even worse off for it, _knowing_ what might come.

“I shall leave you be,” the madam says, and then, finally, he is left in the Keiser’s chambers, completely and utterly alone.

In the sudden silence, he can hear the waves beating against the shoreline. The cries of the seagulls are but background murmurs while his mind rushes, the jar burning white hot in the palms of his hands.

He can imagine it then, what will happen next. Any moment now, the Keiser will walk through those door. He will stand tall and haughty; simply survey him with a guise of mockery, let Yuuri’s nerves soak in the anxious anticipation. His eyes on him are all it will take—a knowing smirk across his lips will quietly taunt him for their last meeting reminding him just how he has ended up there, what is at stake, completely at the Keiser’s mercies.

When the man finally speaks, it will be to tell him to remove his clothes. He’ll expect Yuuri to do it by himself, be the one responsible for his own humiliation. Resisting isn’t an option—they both know who holds all the leverage. When he is finally bared before him, the Keiser, still in his full garb, will ask him to go to the bed and spread himself out there. He will liken him to the many others who have probably been requested to do the same, ask him how it feels to be no better than a common whore.

And regardless of whether Yuuri has prepared for it or not, the Keiser will spread his thighs and sink between them.

Madam Lilia’s words come back to him, completing this image he has painted in his mind. _You will have to decide for yourself how ready you will be when you take the brunt of it._

With shaking hands, he opens the little jar with a little trouble as it slides around in his sweaty palms. He succeeds, but hesitates as he is about to dip his fingers into the clear oil.

What if he is not fast enough? What if, when he has just pushed a finger inside himself, the Keiser will come in and see him in such a shameful state. Will he perhaps be asked to continue his own defilement for his viewing pleasure? He thinks that chances are he will not survive such an embarrassment! Or—his chest constricts—what if the Keiser has no plans to spare him the discomfort of their carnal affairs? He could become absolutely livid that Yuuri has gone ahead and touched himself without his explicitly saying so. He has heard that lying with a man in such a way could be extremely painful for the receiving party if percussions are not taken. Perhaps he is such a man, who would revel in causing him physical pain.

Shaking and confused by his own conflicting thoughts, Yuuri wants nothing more than to sink to the floor then and there and sob into his sleeves. Perhaps if he is found like so, a hulking pitiful mess, the Keiser will take mercy on him and take him gently.

So lost is he to the accumulating thoughts of his Keiser’s plans to besmirch him that he nearly jumps out of his own skin when the doors are slammed open, dropping the oil that tumbles to the floor with a messy spill; not a moment later, a large figure rams into him, limbs tangling with his as they stumble onto the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Finally, after some days of struggling, here is Salty checking in with the final part of First Night! (˶◕ ♡ ◕˶✿)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who kudos-ed, commented and subscribed. It really brightened my day when I was at work to hear my email pling and then find such wonderful messages from you all; they really kept me going! Thank you!!
> 
> Please enjoy the final part! xx

Never had he thought having the Keiser on top of him would be akin to having a big beast of an animal descend upon him. Neither had he thought that the man would lick his face.

Or bark at him. If the enthusiastic slobbering and curly brown fur present all over the figure hadn’t already rung some bells, the excited woof certainly does.

He is being assaulted, not by a man, but by a large dog, which wasn’t what he had expected, yet certainly wasn’t the worst outcome all things considered. Once the surprise wears off and he is _still_ being greeted with eagerness, he can’t help but laugh, hoarsely for the tears he has just barely repressed, and greet the creature back with some careful scratches behind its ears, earning him another joyful yap and another round of wet kisses.

“W-wait! Stop, please!” he giggles into the onslaught of affection, managing to sit up and shove the dog off of him for just long enough to take a proper breath before it attempts to jump on him again. “No, don’t!”

“Makkachin! No!” a new voice calls out from the doorway, and soon the dog is dragged away from him and begrudgingly made to lay down, whining softly as it glances between Yuuri and the newcomer: a man with distinct, silvery hair dressed in shimmering white robes.

Yuuri stares, wide-eyed.

This is the _Keiser_.

The realisation requires a double take, for the last time he had seen the man, on the very eve of his coronation, his hair had yet been long. But he is still a very handsome man—his beauty undiminished since Yuuri had last admired him. His face is clean-shaven and shapely, held by a strong, slender neck and sporting a characteristic, sharp nose and full, bowed lips. Yuuri has heard many smitten men and women alike sprout prose in regards to his blue, piercing eyes, and he would be hard pressed not to agree with, at the very least, some of the poetic rhymes of ice and snow and clear summer skies. A fringe of silver falls over his one eye in a gentle wave, in contrast to the short strands on the back of his head.

In a way, Yuuri thinks, this new cut is very becoming on him—perhaps more so than his long, distinctive locks once were.

“Yuuri!” The Keiser unexpectedly calling out his name— _so familiarly_ —shakes him out of his musings, and he lifts his head to find the man’s attentions now entirely on him. He looks, for indiscernible reasons, rather concerned, and appears almost woeful as he pleads, “I’m so sorry about this, he’s usually more behaved… but he must be as excited as I am to see you again!”

The Keiser smiles then, happily rubbing the belly of his lovable companion and cooing praises while Yuuri thinks to say that, for all he is wonderful, and inexplicably familiar, he has never met the beast before, so ‘again’ isn’t a word applicable to their brief acquaintanceship.

In the distance, the bells ring through the Capitol to warn sundown, and the Keiser gasps.

“Oh, quickly, dear Yuuri! Up on the bed you go!” he urges, and next thing he knows, Yuuri is herded from the floor and onto soft sheets atop the mattress like a child being marched off to bed by its mother.

The Keiser joins him there, knees very nearly brushing Yuuri’s, and then pats the space next to him for the dog to follow. He yips happily and bounces onto the bed, inviting his master to resume his previous attentions to him.

The sky has grown darker since he first arrived, but the bright candles and lanterns have the room alight and warm. The presence of the dog throws him off just a little, but their new circumstances, sitting so very close on _the_ _Keiser’s bed_ , do not escape Yuuri. He expects to be told to strip off his first layer any moment now.

But nothing comes.

Instead, the Keiser simply sits and smiles sheepishly at him, almost abashed as he says, “I’m not certain _how_ much it matters where we are, but the books do say ‘ _to his bed’_ , and I much prefer to be safer than sorrier for it.”

“Ah, right…” Yuuri replies, absently, but tenses as he belatedly realises this must be his cue.

He clenches his fists once to stop his hands shaking. He breathes deeply, once. Twice. Then, with steady movements, he slowly undoes the first tie on his clothes and starts to undress, sliding the wedding robes down his shoulders, exposing the skin there. He is about to pull them apart and let them slide away to bare the rest of him when two hands on top of his stop his movements.

“Y-Yuuri…?” He looks up to meet the Keiser’s bewildered blue eyes. “What are you doing?”

Yuuri stiffens, fearing that he has done something _wrong_. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted him naked just yet. Or maybe he had wanted to undress him himself. Or perhaps it was all a part of his design, to soil Yuuri’s finest clothes and then send him home wearing the very evidence of their night together for all to see, an undeniable strike to his reputation.

He swallows the dread that clogs his throat and averts his gaze, shamefully. “I just…thought you would want me to…wear less for this part.”

There is a beat of silence between them before the Keiser bursts out into laughter as if he has just told a fantastic joke.

“Yuuri! You are so forward!” he beams, stunningly beautiful in his mirth, and Yuuri is at a loss.

 _Unpredictable_ , the madam had told him, and he is beginning to understand _that_ much, at the very least.

“But no, please keep them on.” The Keiser ceases his chuckles and releases Yuuri’s hands in favour of pulling his robes back into place, to Yuuri’s growing bewilderment, tying the ties with secure tugs. When he finishes, he still retains a bright smile spread on his curved lips, gaze wandering appreciatively over his fully clothed form. “Besides, you look devastatingly handsome in your wedding garb.”

Yuuri flushes so badly he feels it sting his cheeks, but can’t think on it long, for the Keiser’s mirth has suddenly given way to a very different emotion. He yet smiles, but his eyes have turned, darkened and downcast with something akin to…sadness.

“Although I shall admit,” he declares, long, graceful fingers tracing the hem of Yuuri’s robe, “I am devastated that it is not for my sake you wear them.”

He looks up at the Keiser’s face, studying it for any sign that he has misheard what he last said. He finds no such explanation there, and instead he is captured by the Keiser’s own gaze, unable to look away once their eyes have locked.

The Keiser’s hand has found his where it lays clenches atop his lap, fingers timidly stroking his with tender, circular movements. He looks almost pained through a strained smile as he speaks, “Looking back, I feel it must be a misunderstanding on my part, perhaps. But won’t you tell me—honestly, Yuuri. How is it that you came to…well, marry this woman?”

Yuuri knows the answer to this, for he has asked himself the same question every day since their engagement was proposed. _For my family. For their happiness. So that my sister doesn’t have to._ He knows why he has done it, and he is still firm in his decision. Still, he struggles to find the words.

He starts with a sigh. “Ah, well…my Keiser—”

“Victor.” The Keiser insists, “Call me Victor.”

“—V-Victor…” Yuuri mumbles, wondering if it is really proper for someone like him to call the Ruler of the Land with such informality—and to admit his own private thoughts to the man. But he has decided to do so, and so he takes a deep breath. “I…well, that is to say, my family needs the support that my father-in-law can provide their business, and there are…things we can do for them in return. As for my wife and I…we have an agreeable relationship, but it is for the sake of a mutually beneficial arrangement. So we are…amiable, in a sense.”

There is another beat of silence until the Keiser’s— _Victor’s_ —strained smile abruptly breaks into a true one which lights up his entire face.

“I knew it!” he exclaims with no small amount of relief and excitement, eyes sparkling as he clenches Yuuri’s hand in his and near bounces on the bed, startling his dog who whines softly in protest to the impulsive movements.

Yuuri, too, feels somewhat confounded by the sudden change of humour, but lets the man go on in his moment of epiphany.

“It was all a grand misunderstanding!” Victor continues, only letting go of Yuuri to gesture wildly into the air in a manner as if to say he can hardly believe it himself. “I admit, I was a little frustrated when you didn’t contact me again, and perhaps a little bit more than irritated once I heard word of your upcoming wedding. I don’t believe Yakov has quite forgiven me yet for the fate of his grandfather’s desk… but no matter!”

Yuuri wants to say something, ask just why he would attempt to contact a man as powerful as the Keiser, and what a _desk_ has to do with any of this, but Victor gives him no time in his enthusiasm. He takes both his hands this time, clasping them tightly in his and has Yuuri meet his gaze.

“I see how it must have been gruelling for you, bearing such worries for your family’s wellbeing. But fear not! You are here now, and I beg you tell me every single one of your troubles, my dear Yuuri, so that I can see them erased.”

And there it is again—an endearment in context with his name that makes absolutely no sense, unless someone has made a grave mistake somewhere and it is not at all Yuuri who is supposed to sit with the Keiser, in his rooms, and be offered to have his every problem solved by him.

In a way, this blunder is beginning to grow very vexing and needs clarification before Victor spins another story of them. So Yuuri exhales, pulls his hands out of the Keiser’s, and steels himself. “V-Victor… this is all very generous of you, but I cannot possibly accept such help so shortly after making your acquaintance! I will not _use_ you or your means so when I am perfectly capable of taking care of my family myself. I-If you would just let me return— _tonight_ —as soon as possible, I can still help my family and honour my promises. _Please._ ”

Victor’s face falls slowly as he speaks, but there is something about the last thing Yuuri says that outs a frustration in him that furrows his brow. “Your promises to whom?” he enquires intently, voice much sharper than it was previous. “Your wife?”

Yuuri nods, steadily. “Yes. To my wife and her family, and my own.”

“And what about the promise you made to _me_?”

“W-What promise?” Yuuri stutters, bewildered. “Your High Majesty, this is my first time speaking with you directly!”

“Wait.” Victor’s simmering irritation seems to sizzle into nothing with his sudden outburst. “I do not get your meaning. Yuuri, of course we have spoken before!”

“When exactly have we done that?” Yuuri demands.

“At my ball! After my coronation, last winter!”

“W-We barely crossed paths,” he insists. “You might have called out to me once, but I was far too embarrassed to reply—and I hope my cowardice didn’t offend you—but after, I never saw you again… I…”

And then Yuuri draws a blank, because now, as he thinks on it, he simply _cannot remember_ what had happened after.

The only thing he can think of was how he had woken up in the carriage, which he had loaned from Lady Okukawa for the occasion, just as he arrived home, a major headache troubling him, prompting him to crawl straight into bed, angry at the sun for burning in his eyes so early in the…morning.

He had arrived home in the morning.

Hasetsu was but two hours on horseback from the Summer Palace. He must have stayed in the Capitol for the entirety of the night.

“I was drunk.” The realisation hits him, hard. It makes perfect sense. “I must have had far too much to drink. I can’t handle alcohol very well at all. I can’t remember what happened.”

Dread rushes through him as he thinks of just what havoc he could have wrecked in his hours of oblivion. He quickly turns to Victor to offer his sincerest apologies for anything improper that might have occurred that night, but finds the words have all vanished when he sees the other man absolutely _distraught_. He sits there, completely still, fists clenched against his robe and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Yuuri feels the world slip from beneath him and the apology is stuck in his chest. He wants to reach out and say something, _anything_ , but all that comes out is a weak, pitiful, “I’m sorry.”

“I see.” His voice is calm, steadier that Yuuri expects of someone close to tears. “That does explain quite a lot, does it not?”

“Victor…” he tries, slowly, voice quaking with guilt. “What... I’m so sorry… just…what did I promise you that night?”

Victor lifts his sleeve and dries his tears on the shimmering robe. “You said you… oh well. It is of no matter now. Please don’t apologise to me, Yuuri. It is not your fault I’ve made such a misjudgement. I’ve gotten ahead of myself, and caused you and your family distress... If anything, the apology should come from me.”

Yuuri near panics with the dismissal. “No, no, please. Please tell me what I said.”

At his insistence, Victor lets on another sad smile, and Yuuri almost believe he’ll refuse to answer him again when he looks up and confesses, quietly, “You promised you would marry me.”

There is a long pause where they simply stare at each other, in shock and melancholy respectively.

Victor, Yuuri thinks, is oddly serene in his grief, almost as if he is intimately acquainted with bitter disappointment. Had he really been so confident in Yuuri’s supposed affections for him? Just what had he said and done to convince a powerful _monarch_ that they should be wed? In a way, that makes him feel even worse, to have become a source of such disappointment, albeit unknowingly. Even if Victor tells him he should not feel so, the guilt only gnaws deeper into his chest.

In his head, he curses his father’s family for their terrible lack of ability to hold their drink.

The remorseful silence soon becomes far too much for him to bear, so, softly, he asks, “Will you… Please, will you tell me…?”

“…of how I fell in love? With the most beautiful, sweet man I have ever met, who danced and danced with me until our feet were sore with blisters? It was the best night I can remember having in a very long time.” The Keiser stares dazedly into the room, and Yuuri has gone red with self-denial of his dreamy words.

“How can you say that?” he reasons. “To fall in love, after just one night. It seems nigh impossible.”

“Perhaps you’re right. They sound like the words of a boy on the cusp of manhood, grasping for a grand romance, rather than someone who has lived near three decades,” Victor admits, eyes glinting in the candlelight. “But I cannot think of any other way to describe how I felt that night, so please believe me when I say I felt strongly for you.”

Yuuri nods, slowly, and lets him tell his story.            

“I remember I first spotted you staring at me, just beyond the stairwell not long after the dessert,” Victor begins. “I had not the faintest idea who you might be or why you were without companionship, so I thought to play host and make your acquaintance…only to be refuted when you turned away and left.” He smiles wryly when Yuuri winces, vividly remembering his own mistake. “I suppose I was a little miffed at first, but it had been a long day with plenty of old and new faces to greet. I shouldn’t think I would even remember our first encounter, had it not been for our second.”

The story has already reached the point at which Yuuri cannot remember anything beyond a single chalice of wine handed to him by an unknown deliverer. From what he has deduced, several more must have followed. While he would rather not think of what the consequences of this endeavour might have been, he leans forward and pays attention.

Victor continues the story with a soft fondness, eyes shining as if he remembers the night in colourful, vivid detail. “You were out on the dancefloor, wooing one partner after another. I think I saw you dance with both servants and several nobles. Sometimes both—at the same time! You were prompting switches not even halfway through a piece and herding the musicians to play what suited your mood. No one could look away.”

Hearing all this, Yuuri is beyond mortified. _The audacity!_ To pretend such entitlement, to demand the Court Musicians to play at his bidding! Stealing servants from their work! They must all have thought him mad, and a terrible annoyance!

Victor, however, doesn’t seem to notice his momentary mental collapse and only sighs wistfully. “You were stunning. I asked about you, and soon I had a name to put to your face. I learned of your connections to Lady Okukawa, who is a dear friend of our Madam Lilia, and decided to use our mutual connection to introduce an acquaintanceship with you… only that, the moment I had introduced myself you had me by my wrist and swept me into a passionate waltz.”

“O-Oh goodness me!”

Victor chuckles at his outburst. “If you were as drunk as you say, no one in the entire room could tell with how gracefully you moved. I would comment on your expertise only to have you surprise me further with a flashy lift, or you would spin me around the hall until I was quite dizzy. I’m not even certain we were still dancing a waltz at that point!”

Yuuri buries his face in his hands and keens.

But Victor is yet far from finished with his tale. “Then I proposed we retire to my chambers.”

 “What!” Yuuri gasps. “Oh goodness, did I—I mean, did we do anything… improper?”

“On no, certainly not! Though I dare say I wouldn’t have unwelcomed such advances.” He winks, and Yuuri is certain he shall not live to hear the end of this tale. “In fact, once we arrived you were quickly acquainted with Makkachin here…you gave him all your attentions. I was quite heartbroken!”

At the mention of his name, Makkachin yips and proceeds to nuzzle against Yuuri’s hand, demanding scratching. Yuuri, unable to deny him, lets him receive it, making the creature growl in delight, very much approving of his new acquaintance.

“And there…was nothing else?” Yuuri queries, warily.

“Quite,” Victor hums. “We stayed up talking for hours, about dance, and your hometown, our families and the like—whatever came to mind, really. You gave me a private lesson for some of your dance moves, but nothing untoward beyond that.”

Privately, Yuuri is relieved. From what Victor has assured him, the most mortifying occurrence of the entire evening had been his footwork in the ballroom in front of all those people. (In fact, he is rather surprised no one has had in mind to mention this event to him before now!) And the story certainly does explain why Makkachin has been so friendly towards him.

With a soft smile he exhales, relieved. “I am glad.”

Victor, on the other hand, pouts. “I was certainly not. We were far into the wee hours when you looked like you were about to fall over yourself from exhaustion. I offered you to sleep here, as I hardly want for space.” Here, he winks, teasingly. “But I was rejected again. I believe you insisted on leaving so that you wouldn’t ‘ _besmirch’_ my honour before our wedding night.”

“I did _not,_ ” Yuuri whines, utterly in denial.

“Your words, not mine,” Victor smirks, and Yuuri would not be surprised if he found some form of pleasure in tormenting him with this tale. “So then I asked you if you really meant it. And you told me, very sweetly, mind, that you would want nothing more than a marriage with me if it would bring us both happiness. That you’d promise to wed me, as long as I wanted you in return.”

Victor hums, as if in thought, resting his chin on his hand and putting a finger to his own lip.

“It seems foolish now… but I quite considered us engaged—or promised, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, unintelligently, but all words escape him in the face of the Keiser’s honest admissions. Victor seems to have thought very fondly of him indeed to still speak of him with such affection, and it truly pains him that he cannot recall the hours of their lives that had ensnared his heart so.

“The very next day, you were gone, but I was still very much encouraged by our night together,” Victor continues, seemingly very interested in studying the threading of the sheets they sit upon. “I am embarrassed to admit it now, but… oh, no matter! I spent the next several days thinking solely of how they would be with you, by my side, as my Consort.”

“C-Consort! Me…!?”

Victor smiles through his sigh. “I imagined waking up to you and having breakfast on the balcony… fulfilling my chores and duties as quick as I could so that I could get back to you in time for a stroll in the gardens before luncheon—oh, and of the parties and feasts we would throw! And how we’d dance and dance until we wanted nothing more than retire here to… Ah, forgive me my fantasies. It suffices to say that you occupied my mind quite constantly.”

While the admission certainly makes Yuuri go red with flattered embarrassment, the pretty flush that now colours Victor’s own cheeks effectively distracts him from his own discomfort.

Victor clears his throat and returns to his tale. “But for weeks and weeks I didn’t hear back from you. I wasn’t sure what to think, but I wanted to believe that you were simply too busy and didn’t have the opportunity to come see me… but then news of your engagement reached me.” His brow narrows as he reaches this part. “At first I thought I had done something wrong… perhaps you had expected me to come to you, and you thought I had rejected you by never showing up. My advisor said you had probably just been stringing me along… Which is why his old desk is no longer operational. I very much regret that behaviour, but I couldn’t bear having anyone think poorly of you when you are so… _wonderful_.”

Yuuri feels something flip in his chest at the thought of _Victor_ defending his honour to his own court; strangely, it feels not at all unpleasant.

“However, the more I thought about it, the more I started thinking that this didn’t seem right,” Victor reasons, expression calm and serious. “I was certain that this was talk of a loveless marriage, considering what information I had been able to gather. So I decided that if I didn’t at least talk to you and ask you what had happened, I would always regret not trying… and then my friend, who studies the law, mentioned this to me. The Act of the First Night. According to law, it was technically legal for me to request you come to me on your wedding night, and no one would be able to oppose it.”

“Which you did,” Yuuri affirms, ceasing to pet Makkachin lest he rip his fur in his clenching fist. “…why not just contact me? You could easily have arranged for a meeting, could you not? Why all of this?”

At his question, Victor turns away, very obviously ashamed of the answer. “I suppose I was feeling rather petty when I didn’t hear from you, as there was always that little voice telling me that Yakov could have been right. My plan was, in the end, to… ah, well. I planned to keep you captive here to prevent you from consummating your union, whether you yet wanted me or not. Stupid, wasn’t it?”

He shakes his head.

“You gave me only one night, as unforgettable as a night could be, and yet I acted as if I was entitled to all of you. I can only plead you will forgive me. I am, truly, so very sorry, Yuuri.”

“Me too,” Yuuri pleads in return. “I…I can’t remember anything, but I still choose to drink even though I knew it wasn’t a good decision. You told me not to feel sorry for you, but I cannot feign ignorance. Knowing that I’ve hurt you, I wish nothing more than to make it up for you… if you’ll tell me how I can.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says, seriously then, after a long moment of consideration. “I know that I must seem like such an awful person to you, after telling you all this, but _I beg of you_. Please annul your marriage.”

Yuuri sighs. “You know I cannot. My family depends on this.”

“Then I will pay all the compensations! For your family and hers, if you will just…” He swallows. “Please, accept my courtship. While you do not remember that night, you made me happier than I have been in a very long time. So, please, give me a chance to get to know you and make you happy, as well. And if not… I will see you home, at once, but please—please, Yuuri. Please consider me an option.”

“I…” Yuuri is about to refuse, _knows_ he should be doing it and insist that Victor takes him home, as he promises…

But then he thinks back to earlier that day. At how he stood at the ceremony, giving his life away and just _accepting_ that what should be the happiest day of his life was dedicated to the benefit of everyone else—everyone but himself.

He thinks of Victor and of how earnest he had been with him from the moment he had stepped into the room. Victor, who is so very different from who Yuuri had imagined him, who is honest in his emotions, brash and beautiful and full of such _hope_. Hope for a life filled with love above all else. Hope for happiness with a person he could bring happiness in return. Hope for an end to bitter disappointments…

And as he thinks on all of this, Yuuri knows. He knows in his heart that whatever this is, what it will grow to be, it cannot possibly be worse than what he had resigned himself to.

So in a soft whisper, heart beating wildly with anticipation for the future, but with a smile tugging gently at his mouth, he accepts. “I give you my permission to court me… _if_ my parents agree to your terms.”

He doesn’t know if Victor even registers the ‘if’, for he has just barely finished speaking when he is pulled into his embrace.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he whispers, hoarsely, warmth seeping through his clothes and Yuuri cannot help but embrace him right back.

They stay like so for long moments and would probably have stayed for longer had Makkachin not insisted on attempting to become a part of their embrace, resulting in a heap of enthusiastic yips and laughter.

They are both exhausted after the event of the day, yet they stay up and talk for a while longer, of Yuuri’s family and their business, and about Victor and what is left of his, of the future and its proceedings, what needs to be done soon and what they will have to wait for, of their favourite foods and seasons, and other little, nonsensical things, until their eyes grow heavy and their tentative smiles soften.

When Yuuri feels his movements grow dull and his head dupes against the Keiser’s shoulder, Victor guides them to lie down and throws a blanket over them. Makkachin makes himself comfortable at the end of the bed, and Victor keeps whispering his gratitude until Yuuri’s eyes fall shut and he starts to drifts off.

He falls asleep with Victor tenderly tracing the shapes of his face, humming softly along to the melody of a waltz.

-

When Yuuri had demanded Victor get his parent’s approval before starting his courtship, he had not expect him to insist coming back to Hasetsu with him the very next morning.

He supposes the looks on his family’s faces when the Keiser strides into their living room proudly announcing “Good day! I’m Victor,” was completely worth it.

Victor, however, quickly charms his way into their hearts, and within the afternoon Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki have accepted his courtship request of their only son.

Family politics are seldom that simple though, and before the day has ended Lady Minako Okukawa herself arrives in their home and decides to be Yuuri’s chaperon throughout the process to make sure everything is in order and proceeds per tradition. (Her presence is a godsend in the eyes of Victor’s trusty advisor who really cannot stand to think of another marriage scandal concerning his liege, which he, undoubtedly, would have to clean up).

It takes a full half year of regular meetings and visits before Yuuri agrees to become the Keiser’s fiancé. Another full year passes before they are wed.

Yuuri has decided that his first Act as Victor’s Consort will be to repel the centuries old Act of the First Night. The only weak objection to this came from his husband-to-be, who thought it cute how they had come together because of it, but once Yuuri threatens that Victor could take the sitting room on their wedding night lest he agrees, he has the Keiser’s full support.

(This does not prevent Victor from whispering in his ear, when they finally enter their chambers on that wonderful summer’s eve that “by the Act of the First Night, it is hereby in my right as the Eleventh Keiser to take you from this blessed marriage to spend the first night of matrimonial service in my bed.”

Yuuri leaves him in the sitting room to beg and apologise for a full fifteen minutes before letting him into the bedroom.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading until the end! ♡
> 
> So, while this part is the last official part, I might do two bonus parts if I have the time later. With this, I can finally rate the fic with a solid M (which may or may not change if the bonus chapter happens hurhurhur)
> 
> I currently have a lot of ideas and prompts written down, but I'm uncertain what will strike me with inspiration next. If you feel like it, leave me a comment or a message with what you'd like to see more of, it would help me sort my thoughts out!
> 
> Check out my tumblr if you'd like to keep updated on what I'm working on. I try to post things that interest me as well as little titbits of my works! I'm still a bit nervous about sharing my ideas and running a fanfic blog, but hopefully I'll warm up soon enough. Come have a chat with me! I'd love to get to know more people in the fandom, but I am very, very shy...
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading until the end! ♡  
> I hope to see you again sometimes soon!
> 
> -Aicco
> 
> EDIT 16/08/2017: I finally got around to editing a part that has bothered me a little, and hopefully the story reads better now. I hope you enjoy! x

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ~ ♡♡♡
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://saltycaramel1394.tumblr.com/)


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